


Blue Holidays

by queentangerine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Christmas, Cute, Depression, Drama, Fluff, Happy, M/M, New Year's Eve, Suicide Attempt, but this is a, story i promise, warnings for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 13:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5628865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queentangerine/pseuds/queentangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Cas is a nurse at Mercy Hospital, where Dean is brought after an apparent suicide attempt that he denies. Dean fails to act like the broken patient that Cas expects; instead, he's all smiles and charm, until he becomes less of a patient more of a friend. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Christmas/New Year's is the backdrop for this but it's mostly just a hospital AU, I think.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Day

**Author's Note:**

> Started this too late to finish before New Year's but wanted to post it anyway.
> 
> DISCLAIMER for having done zero research as to how hospitals operate, anything related to various medical conditions, etc., I'm sure it's not all correct but I tired to keep it vague where I could, sry (kinda). And the Christmas/suicide rate thing is apparently a myth but I wrote it that way anyway.

So there’s this thing about the holidays, where a lot of people react badly to the excess of cheer and merriment and family values being shoved down their throat, thus evoking a surfacing of the internalized gloom and doom bad thoughts. The type that are immensely terrifying and much harder to keep at bay when the rest of the world is shouting the exact opposite at you, wherever you go, decorations on street corners, Christmas music blaring in every store and from every radio station, and everyone you meet asking what your plans are for the holiday and what your New Year’s resolution is, while you personally debate just staying home on New Year’s or braving going out even though you’re too tired and you have no idea what to do about that stupid traditional requirement of having someone to kiss at midnight. 

Castiel used to hate the holiday season as much as all that, but now he couldn’t care less. It’s just the beginning of winter to him. He hovers somewhere in the vicinity of _indifferent_ , at least in how they affect him personally. But working in a hospital lends him a front row seat to the stress this time of year tends to put on people. As a nurse, he can help them, and his anti-holiday stance means the cycle of stress stops with him.

Not everyone has someone to visit or to kiss, and that’s _okay_ , honestly, it’s just that the ones that _have_ pity the ones who _lack_. And no one keeps their resolutions anyway.

Thanksgiving though January first is just a blaring, constant reminder that everyone is supposed to like their family, even if they don’t, and that they’re supposed to _have_ a family, even if they don’t, and they should have exciting plans, mostly just so they have something to contribute to the post-holiday small talk around the water cooler. If they don’t, it’s a reminder that they don’t have their lives together, or that maybe it doesn’t match what they’d pictured in their head as a kid, or the photographs of the families in catalogues or what every one of their friends and acquaintances have posted on the internet (which can’t be trusted anyway).

It’s okay for life not to be perfect, even if society and consumerist culture culture says others, it doesn’t matter and it especially doesn’t matter _more_  around the holidays.

Because Thanksgiving is a bullshit holiday, indirectly celebrating genocide and the slaughter of millions of turkeys so the majority of Americans can spit out a blanket, not-all-that-hearftelt thank you for something generic before stuffing themselves with as much food as can physically fit in their stomach, and then also some dessert.

Christmas should only matter to the religious Christians, and even then it’s more about the _birth_ of  _Christ_ , not pine trees and santa and there-must-be-snow-on-the-ground and gifts-for-everyone-I’ve-talked-to-this-year. And if certain historians are to believed, Jesus wasn’t even born in December.

New Year’s, of course, is a somewhat arbitrary date for a false _fresh start_  based on the Roman calendar system, created presumably as an efficient way to keep track of time, universally, and nothing more. Lunar New Year, at least has some sort of natural basis, but that’s really only celebrated by certain cultures in the U.S. 

And the kiss tradition - well, no clue where that one came from, honest, which makes in all the less important. 

So, what does all this mean? Essentially, it culminates in Christmas having the highest suicide rate of the year. If that’s not a red flag, Castiel doesn’t know what is. 

It could be said that Cas is a cynic. It could also be said that he’s just seen (and lived) enough of the bad side of the holiday season that he can’t turn a blind eye in favor of the good, whatever that is.

The reasons vary. He’s worked quite a few Christmas shifts at Mercy hospital and he understands his patient’s struggles a lot more than they may realize. Even if he doesn’t draw the short straw, he still volunteers to work the Christmas shift, or any other around this time that needs covering. He does a lot more good at the hospital than alone in his apartment, with his cat, and eating left over take-out.

The first year he volunteered to work on Christmas his brother Gabriel's only response had been, “Well look at you, being a martyr. Mother would be so proud.” And then he signed himself up to work too.

“And pissed,” he'd added. Gabriel is not one to be outdone, nor did he care to face their mother without Cas as backup. Working the same shift in the same hospital as a sibling is almost like celebrating the holiday together.

While Cas cares about all of his patients, every year there’s at least one that tugs on his heartstrings like a tow truck. Two years ago it was a sixteen year old named Claire, whose father had run out on her, followed closely (although separately) by her mother, leaving her alone to be thrown to the system. Last year had been Hannah, a young woman who had been accidentally outed to her her entire, unaccepting family.

Both stories hit home with Castiel.

This year, it has less to do with the story (at least for now, because no one has yet to uncover it) and more to do with the patient himself. Dean Winchester, in room 209. Swallowed a handful of sleeping pills with several glasses of whiskey. The neighbor called the cops when his dog wouldn’t stop barking, and he’s only alive now due to that well-timed noise compliant.

He’d been brought in around one am Christmas Day, and by the time Castiel shows up for his eight am shift, Dean is stable but unconscious. 

He looks peaceful while he sleeps, but completely beat - attempted suicide and stomach pumping tends to have that effect. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead and on the back of his hands, resting at his sides above the thin hospital blanket. Cas checks on him around 8:30, reads his chart to familiarize himself with the man and the case.

Dean Winchester. Thirty-one years old. Emergency contact: father, John Winchester. Called three times, each went straight to voicemail. No one else listed.

This is the first part of the story, Cas assumes. The reason why Dean tried it. It makes sense, in that twisted way that suicide tries to make sense of itself even though it never quite gets there. Sad and lonely.

An hour later, when Cas next enters the room, Dean is awake and _smiling_. It catches Cas off guard. 

“Oh, hello.” He’s not used to seeing someone  _smiling_ like that after a failed attempt. Even the ones that are glad it failed are still visibly upset, just due to the overwhelming nature of the situation along with the weakness that persists. 

But Dean, while still pale and sickly, is grinning, even wider now that he see’s Castiel.

“Good morning,” he says, bright green eyes shining, and not from tears, like Castiel would have expected from anyone in his condition, but just because they’re so damn pretty, like his whole face, actually, sharp lines and dusty brown freckles, the smile creeping up to the tiny crows feet just starting to settle into the corners of his eyes.

“Good morning,” Castiel replies, walking over to him. “Glad to see you’re awake."

“Yeah, me too.” Dean’s smile is genuine - Castiel has seen enough fake ones to tell the difference - although Dean does seem a little… uncertain, as he lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck, while still watching Castiel. “Killer headache though. Could you, uh, tell me how I got here?"

Ah. Castiel should really let the doctor handle this, and he’s about to tell Dean as much, while he replaces the IV bag, but then he’s telling him anyway. Just the bare-bones version. The pills. The alcohol. The dog. The neighbor. The stable-for-now condition.

“Ah, shit. I guess they just left the dog on her own then?"

“As far as I know.” Again, not the response Castiel expected, no question or concerns about his own condition.

“That little monster’s gonna eat my couch if no one feeds her. There’s a woman in my building - any chance I could make a call?"

“Of course. That phone will work.” He points to the bedside table. “Dial nine."

“Awesome. Thanks man."

This would be Castiel’s opportunity to mention his father, ask for another number (or person) to try, but Dean’s already reaching for the phone and dialing. If he wants to call someone else, he could. Castiel is finished with the IV and has marked Dean's chart, so he takes this as his cue to leave. He’ll be back later, and he’ll send someone else in the meantime. The doctor, Gabriel, or the psychologist, Tessa. Either would be more help than him right now.

Castiel catches the beginning of Dean’s conversation as he makes for the door. 

“Mornin’ Missouri. Sorry for calling this early.” A pause. Laughter. “Of course. Merry Christmas to you, too. Look, long story, hate to ask, but would you mind running down and feeding the monster for me?"

 

~

 

After the rest of Castiel’s rounds, he’s nearly back to Dean’s room, but he sees Tessa already in there so he steers clear, congregating instead with the rest of the nurses around their station, woefully covered in tinsel and paper snowflakes. Cas is in his usual blue scrubs, while every one else opted for either red or green, of course.  

Meg is arguing with an angry husband, Pamela is trying to trick people into standing under the mistletoe she hung, and Garth and Charlie are making Christmas cards for all the kids over in pediatrics. Apparently, only Castiel and Meg find it necessary to actually (kind of) do their jobs. Although, granted, it is an unusually slow Christmas. 

When Castiel gets close enough to the counter, Pamela runs up and pulls him ‘out of the way’ of a rogue (and invisible) supply cart.

“Close one!” she says, keeping her hands placed firmly on his shoulders. “Would’ve knocked you right off your feet.” And she looks up. “Well would you look at that.” 

She gives him eyes while he wrenches himself free, laughing. 

“Has this ploy actually worked on anyone?"

Pamela’s been at the hospital for ten years and it’s something of a miracle she hasn’t rubbed someone the wrong way (pun intended) and gotten slapped with a sexual harassment suit. 

“Oh yeah,” she says. “Meg at least humored me."

“Not everyone's a prude like you, Clarence,” Meg supplies. Castiel ignores her.

“And then,” Pamela continues, “there was _Benny_.” She sighs dramatically and leans back against the counter, off in a daydream.

Cas rolls his eyes. _Benny_  is on the janitorial staff. He’s young, attractive, and has the whole Southern gentleman thing going on, complete with a heavy drawl. All the female nurses have a thing for him, except Charlie, who has a never-ending thing for Dorothy, one of the pediatricians. This is at least fifty percent of why she’s working so hard on those cards. 

“Don’t _scoff_ , Clarence. You think he’s hot, too."

Castiel shrugs. He’d be lying if he denied it, but unlike the rest of his fickle (or devious) coworkers, he prefers his workplace devoid of unnecessary romantic entanglements. Not worth the trouble.

“Alright!” Charlie announces. “We’re off to spread the Christmas cheer.” She gathers up the cards as Garth conjures up a Santa hat for himself and a headband with reindeer antlers for Charlie.

“But only to those who want Christmas cheer,” Cas tells her.

“Aye-aye, Captain Castiel.” She dons the antlers and salutes, backing away from the nurses station, and nearly colliding with a visitor. “No means no.” And the two of them disappear around the corner.

 

~

 

Not long after, Tessa emerges from Dean’s room and finds Castiel to give him an update, and her preliminary evaluation. Based on their meeting that morning, Castiel is not surprised that he is surprised by what she as to say. And because he doesn’t quite know what to say to Dean - or if he should say anything at all - he spends the rest of the morning avoiding his room, knowing full well that it makes him a shitty nurse, as well as a shitty person. 

 

~

 

Dean’s story (so far) is this:

He’s claiming the whole thing had been an accident, although how something like eight sleeping pills and enough whiskey for three is an _accident_  is a mystery to everyone.

He claims he has high tolerance when it comes to drinking and he claims he usually needs more than one pill to sleep. This time, they happened to work better than expected, he was tired but not quite tired enough to fall asleep, and he lost count.

He says his dad will never answer that phone number because it’s years old and Dean doesn’t know the new one. He won’t until his dad decides to call, and he has no clue as to when that will be.

“The old man’s paranoid as all hell,” he tells Gabriel. “Lives on the road and out of suitcases, pays cash for everything, and changes his phone twice a year."

Dean says he has no other family in Kansas, but there’s a brother in California and kind-of family out in South Dakota, but he refuses to trouble them on Christmas.

“I’m fine,” he tells Tessa. “No need to worry them over a stupid mistake."

Says he’d had no plans for Christmas other than a peaceful, quiet day off work that he’d been looking forward to all week.

It sounds reasonable enough to Cas, except for the one part that has them all worried. The part that leaves Tessa uncomfortable because he’s refusing to take any responsibility. 

Eight pills is a lot for an accident.

 

~

 

Lunch time rolls around and Cas can no longer avoid room 209. He can see it whenever he lingers around the nurses station, the doorway basically glaring at him every time passes. He’d gotten psych info from Tessa and medical info from Gabe, and now it’s really time for him to stop being horrible and do just job (and be a decent person).

He’s avoiding the room because in this instance, A + B does not equal C and Cas really just doesn’t know what to do with that. He’s a logical person; he always got and A in math class and like solving for _x_ while everyone else complained.

Cas offers to bring Dean his lunch, like that might make up for slacking. 

When he says he’s got 209 covered, Charlie, in a good mood from Christmas card giving and still wearing reindeer antlers, pipes up.

“Ohh,” she says, “Pam tells me that’s a cute one. Haven’t gotten in there myself yet."

Cas defuses that one, quick and easy. “It’s highly unprofessional to discuss patients in such a way.” Nobody actually cares, but, “And it doesn’t take much to get Pam going."

“True fact. Meg might be right about you, though, Cas, watch out.” But then both know Meg is wrong.

 

~

 

Dean is still smiling when Cas walks in with his tray of not-so-appetizing hospital lunch. He’s reading. _Timequake_. Vonnegut. Cas takes note. Dean tucks a bookmark into the pages and sets it down when he hears Cas shuffle in.

“Hey man,” he says. “Starting to think I wouldn’t see you again.” His cheeks must hurt from smiling so much. “Everyone else has been in and out practically every ten minutes."

“I apologize, I shouldn’t have - "

Dean’s messing with him, of course, Cas gets that, it just took him an extra half-second to catch up, considering that he had been kinda-sorta avoiding the room. Seems silly, now. He needn’t have worried, even if he doesn’t know what to say because he doesn’t have to say anything at all, and Dean can talk if he wants to. That’s how this usually goes anyway.

And Dean is beaming at him from across the room; if this whole situation hasn’t got him down, maybe nothing will.

“No apologies necessary. You brought me food.” He reaches out for the tray and Cas hands it to him, smile forming on his own face.

The hospital tires to do something nice for the holiday’s meal. There’s mac and cheese, and ham, and mixed vegetables, and an attempt at apple pie for dessert, instead of the standard jello.

“I’m starving."

“You’ve had your stomach pumped,” Cas reminds him. "Stick to soft foods and take it slow. 

“So long as pie counts as soft food I’m good,” he says, mouth already full of mac and cheese.

Cas could leave it at that, Pam was just in here not long ago, but he checks the chart and the machines and the IV anyway.

Dean watches him as he starts, the smile just in his eyes now that he’s eating. “Someone just did all that ten minutes ago."

“Just double checking,” Cas says, although Dean is right, there’s nothing for him to do, but for whatever reason, now that he’s actually in the room he doesn’t want to leave so soon. He doesn’t understand Dean, and he wants to, but he’s still to nervous broach any relevant topic.

So instead of thinking anything through, he just opens his mouth and what comes out is this:

“Do you not enjoy having a dog?"

The fact that Dean owns a dog is the only thing Cas knows about him other than his being here in the hospital.

“I like her just fine. Course, she’s not really mine."

“Not yours?"

Dean takes another bite of lunch and backtracks while Cas stops pretending he’s actually doing anything with the machines, miming pressing buttons. They’re talking now, it’s okay. He’s usually better with patients than this. He wants Dean to be more fragile than he actually is because that is what Cas is used to. That he can work with. 

“Well, mine now, more or less. My little brother’s but he couldn’t take her to school and then later the only affordable apartments were anti-animal. So I got stuck with her."

He finally takes a bite of pie, makes a face, and then shrugs, “Pie in appearance only, but I’ll still take it. Why would you think I don’t like her?"

“You continually referred to her as a monster this morning."

This makes Dean laugh. Like _really_ laugh, clutching his stomach, moving the food tray off to the side like it needs to be out of the way for safe keeping, and maybe it does. Maybe he thought Cas was making a joke, or maybe there was some other joke from some other time that Cas doesn’t know - or, maybe, with everything that’s happened, Dean just really needed to laugh. 

When he lets it all out he takes a deep breath, still grinning wider than ever as he reaches for his tray back and says, “Well yeah, she’s a little shit, don’t get me wrong, but also her _name_ is Monster."

“Oh.” Cas can’t help but chuckle at that himself as he wonders aloud, “What came first, the chicken or the egg?"

“Good goddamn question."

 

~

 

Not too long after, Tessa berates him about calling his brother. Cas hears from the hallway - he’s not eavesdropping, just passing by and yes, totally eavesdropping. 

“I’ll call him tomorrow, alright? When I get home. I don’t even have my phone here.”

“Dean - "

“It’s Christmas and he’s meeting his girlfriend’s family for the first time.” Cas could practically hear Dean smirking. “He’s got enough to freak out about as it is and I’m _fine_. Nothing to tell."

Tessa leaves him with a guilt trip and catches Cas in the hall. 

“He’s stubborn, that one."

 

~

 

Later, Dean tells Cas - 

“It’s actually his Christmas present that I don’t call him, even before all this, we agreed. Because I would be incapable of not messing with him and he’s been on the verge of a heart attack all week. You know, because she’s the _the one_  and he thinks if he makes a bad impression she’ll kick him to the curb."

“It’s not unreasonable to want to make a good first impression."

“Course not. But he doesn’t have to worry. Literally the nicest kid you’ll ever meet and Jess is a close second. I’m sure her family is great and everybody’s going to love everybody. Just you wait."

 

~

 

Later, Cas is in the break room having coffee with Charlie. He’s just about made it to hour eleven of of his twelve hour shift, and he’s more than ready for it to end. For now, caffeine helps.

“You should have seen the kids, Cas,” Charlie’s saying. “Absolutely adorable. And they had a tree up in the common area and Dorothy had the kids painting ornaments all week and the Toys-for-Tots crew came by with gifts."

“Sounds nice."

“Oh please.” She takes a long sip - hot chocolate, Charlie _doesn’t do coffee_. “You hate Christmas."

“I never said that.” And if he did, he hadn’t meant it, mostly.

“Whatever, dude."

“And how is Dorothy?"

Charlie sighs and sips her cocoa. “Not in today, but I knew that. Those kids though. And - " her eyes sparkled “ - I bribed Kevin - " an intern “ - into making sure she knows I was there."

“Of course."

“Of course.” And then she stares him down.

“What?"

“What about room 209? I never did get a chance to stop in there."

“I have nothing to report about room 209.” Cas has A Lot to report about room 209. About six different stories of Monster living up to her name, the little brother Sam who’s the first in the family to graduate from college, something about a ’67 Chevy that got way to technical for Cas to follow.

“C’mon, Cas. I saw you duck in and out of there like ten times since lunch."

The fact that red and green decorations are plastered all over the hospital for Christmas, but the only green that Cas is interested in is the faded, honey-tinted sort of Dean’s eyes. 

None of this he can tell Charlie. It’s not medically relevant.

Cas settles on, “209 is recovering just fine."

“Good. Great. You know that’s now what I’m asking. I need to know if Pam was right. Is he cute?"

Cas contemplates lying, but secrets are hard to keep in this place, and this much he’s willing to admit. “Understatement."

She whistles, kind of looks like she wants to shout with excitement, because Cas rarely participates in this sort of gossip. 

“Can I get a name so I don’t have to refer to him by his room number?"

“Dean."

“Dean.” She takes a sip of cocoa. “Like James Dean."

“Dean Winchester, actually."

She stops, cup poised, narrows her eyes. "Dean Winchester."

“Yes."

“Light hair, green eyes?"

“Yes."

“The kind of too-pretty good looks that makes you want to just slap them right off his face?"

Cas shrugs. Charlie sets her mug down.

“Far too charming for his own good?"

“Do you know him?"

He takes a calm sip of coffee while she throws her hands up in the air. 

“Holy Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I went to high school with him."

Cas tries to picture a teenaged Dean but he can’t.

“Pretty good friends, actually, until he dropped off the face of the earth after graduation. Some shit with his dad.” She reaches for her mug, takes a huge sip and grimaces. Too hot for that. “I didn’t know he was back in Kansas. I’ll have to stop in before I leave and give him hell for never calling me."

“Or, you could politely reconnect with an old friend. He’s here because he tried to kill himself, Charlie."

“What? No. That doesn’t sound like Dean. No."

Cas is gripping his mug tighter than he needs to be. He knows Charlie’s looking at him with those giant eyes wide, but he doesn’t look at her.

“I’ve only just met him today, but I’m inclined to agree."

 

~

 

Shift change comes at eight o’clock Christmas Day. Cas finds Gabriel in his office.

“Are you going to Kali’s or can you give me a ride home?” Despite all efforts to get away form each other a children, now not only do they work at the same hospital, but they live less than five minutes from each other. Usually, Cas opts for public transportation, but the holiday bus schedule is erratic at best.

“Little bro, I am hurt that you don’t listen to me when I speak. Kali is visiting her bitch of a sister."

“So you’ll drive me.” Always best to clarify with Gabe.

“I’ll do you one better. There’s a steak with your name on if if you’re wiling to cook."

They agree to meet at the car in twenty. Gabriel has a bit more paperwork, and Cas wants to say goodbye to Dean, who's slated to be discharged the following morning, before Cas will arrive for his afternoon shift, so this is it. It shouldn’t feel weird that it is, but it does.

Dean's reading when Cas walks in, looks half asleep, struggling to keep his eyes open even though it’s barely after eight. He’s had a long day. But Cas is glad to see he didn’t miss him.

“Hey."

There’s that smile again.

They talk about the weather prediction for the next day, of all things. Small talk. Because this is weird even though it shouldn’t be weird. Cas knows it’s weird because he’s sad to see Dean go - for selfish reasons only. Because he didn’t get to figure him out, mostly, and because he’s not sure he helped him at all. Or if he really even needed help in the first place. Maybe it was all just a big accident, coincidence, phenomenon.

So he tries to urge Dean to remember to call his brother, actually tell him what happened. Dean brushes it off with concern more for how the Monster will have taken his day-and-a-half-long absence than his thousand-mile-away fully-grown-adult brother. 

Cas tells him to make sure to count more carefully next time, and it’s all Dean can do not to roll his eyes, because he’s _not one to make the same mistake twice_.

Cas starts to tell him that he’s glad he had the chance to meet him but he hates the circumstances. Something about his pervasive happiness, and that right there is something he shouldn’t lose sight of, shouldn’t have let whatever it was that dragged him down get him to this point. He wants to say something about how, maybe, he wishes this isn't goodbye, but Dean’s eyes are falling closed and Cas should really let him sleep, and he realizes he hasn't said any of that, he’s just standing there watching him while having weighty one-sided conversations in his head.

So he sums it all up and says quietly, “As much as I’d like to see you again, I really hope I don’t.” _Not here_.

Dean opens his mouth, about to say something, but then he stays silent, holds Cas’ gaze, and nods.

 


	2. It's only a week.

As it turns out, Dean is still there when Cas gets in for his afternoon shift the following day. Apparently, they’d run one last test the night before and found that some latent heart problem from when he was a kid flared back up due to the stress of the _event_.

“I was electrocuted when I was sixteen,” Dean says, and he says it proudly. 

Tessa is glad he’s still in because nothing she has to say will help until he stops lying to himself and everyone. 

Cas is angry with himself that he’s glad that Dean is stlll there, because it means that something might be wrong but it also means that their goodbye wasn’t goodbye, not yet.

When he enters room 209 that day Charlie is already there, having done exactly what Cas suggested and reconnected politely (or as politely as can be for Charlie, politeness usually hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and odd references most people don’t understand). 

The two of them are in the midst of a somewhat heated discussion, possibly argument - it’s hard for an outsider to tell - about the new _Star Trek_ franchise. Apparently they’d watched all the television series together as kids and if all had been different they’d have seen the movies together, but of course they hadn’t, and now they’re making up for lost opportunities.

“Chris Pine - more like Chris _Fine_ , am I right?"

Charlie laughs. “You always did have a weird thing for Kirk."

“Maybe now, sure, but _Original Series_ was more of fascination with Shatner’s amazingly horrible acting."

“Mmm. That was certainly a sight to behold."

This is when Dean looks up to see Cas walking over.

“Hey there, Castiel."

“Hello,” and that’s when Cas realizes - 

“Can you believe I went all of yesterday without catching your name?” Dean says, that smile making his whole face light up, "I asked after you and I had to resort to description. Ridiculously blue eyes, adorable frown."

“But don’t worry, I helped him out,” Charlie says, and Cas gets the feeling she had more to say than just his name.

 

~

 

So this is how it goes. All day it seems that one or both of them is in there, as if they don’t have actual jobs to do (although, in a way it is their job, keeping a patient that attempted suicide in good spirits; but Dean doesn’t need help with that, and it isn't why they’re in there), because there’s just something about the perpetual good mood of Dean and the whole room that makes the time fly and makes it seem like they’re not in a hospital. This sort of backwards feeling has Cas worried, but only when he’s filling out paperwork at the nurses station, only when he’s confronted by Tessa about not being fooled. Well, it’s hard not to be fooled when Dean is grinning at Cas like he just might be his favorite person in the world, even as Cas knows that’s a foolish thought to have. 

 

~

 

Somehow, on that next day, which happens to be Cas’ day off, he still ends up stopping by Mercy after getting roped into going to Dean’s apartment to get his cell phone. He’s not really sure how this happened, he may have volunteered, although he’s content to pretend he was coerced. 

Nevertheless, he finds himself knocking on the door of Dean's upstairs neighbor, Missouri, to ask for the spare key. She’s taking care of Monster, for the time being, so Cas doesn’t have to worry about that, and when Missouri opens the door, she’s holding her, a little white French Bulldog, with the biggest shit-eating grin Cas has ever seen on a dog.

As he had been warned, Missouri was nosy, asking questions for which she doesn't wait for answers because she seems to know them anyway. Cas leaves with a pretty good feeling that she now knows more about why he’s here, at the apartment of a man he doesn’t really know (but feels like he knows) than he does himself. 

The apartment itself is mostly what he would have expected. Small, but big enough for one, sparse but not empty or neglected, not impeccably neat but not messy either. There’s a handful of posters tacked to the walls and photos of friends and family stuck to the fridge with magnets. Cas isn’t snooping, he had to walk through the apartment to the kitchen to find the phone on the table, next to an empty fruit bowl and Dean’s laptop, the screen dark and battery dead.

On the way back to the door Cas spots the bookshelf, only half of which contains books, and he sees a few that are well worn, including more Vonnegut and a few with authors and titles he doesn’t recognize. He grabs a few to take along with the phone, so Dean will have more to read, and something other than meddlesome nurses to keep him entertained. 

Dean’s thrilled when he sees them. “Awesome. It was hard work talking Meg into finding me one."

“And you should consider yourself lucky. Meg’s never done a nice thing for anyone in this hospital."

“Charlie says it was only because of my good looks."

“Well she’s not wrong."

Dean needs his phone because now that is after Christmas, if he doesn't call Sam, Sam will call him, all hell breaking loose if he doesn't answer. Tessa had encouraged Dean to just use the hospital phone to call his brother, but Dean just concocted some story about Sam refusing to pick up for numbers he doesn't recognize, etc. etc., so there he is with his own phone dialing his brother.

Later, it becomes apparent that the real reason for needing to call from his own phone is to hide the fact that he's in the hospital. 

Tessa’s on edge because she’d finally believed she gotten through to him only to find that no progress had been made, and Cas is disappointed too, because while he understands Dean’s reasoning for keeping quiet, from all he’s told Cas about Sam, Cas refuses to believe that Sam would prefer to be kept in the dark.

Charlie doesn’t seem as worried as the rest of them. “This is what he does, putting everyone else before himself. He keeps the bad news on a need-to-know basis. And he is doing okay. He’s just being kept to be monitored for a few days, but you heard Gabriel, he doesn’t expect there to be any issues.” 

Cas doesn’t really have anything to say to that, or to her, or to Dean, so he says nothing. As much as he wants to help, he doesn’t want to _interfere_ and he’s yet to determine where that line is with Dean.

 

~

 

The rest of the week passes quickly, but slowly. Slow as usual with most of his work, and then time becoming more or less irrelevant whenever he ventures into room 209. Or, whenever Dean, growing restless, venturers out of it despite Gabriel urging him not to. 

He always seems to find the nurses station when Cas is grumpy and grumbling over paperwork and patient charts, or when he’s discussing something awkward with other patient’s family members. There’s Dean, standing off to the side, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, and Cas never notices him there until Dean’s laughing at him, and Dean’s too busy laughing to notice Pamela undressing him with her eyes or Charlie watching all of this like it’s her new favorite t.v. show. 

And Cas has started taking many of his breaks in room 209, hiding in there with a coffee or a snack and bringing something for Dean as well, to be nice, and also as a pretense (that everyone sees right through). 

Dean forces his way through more hospital pie, leftover form Christmas, and ends up giving Cas an incredibly detailed baking lesson (considering they’re neither in a kitchen or baking) on the correct way to make an apple pie, according to the recipe his late mother had invented. 

This devolves into other stories from his childhood, and Cas shares a few of his own which eventually comes around to explaining that Gabriel, Dean’s doctor, is in fact Cas’ older brother, to which Dean says, “Wow, okay. I don’t see that at all, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Sometimes, Dean is watching t.v., usually reruns of _Dr. Sexy_ , and despite all of Cas’ reassurances, he refuses to believe isn't an accurate depiction of what it’s like to work in a hospital.

 

~

 

Cas is in 209 doing actual work when Charlie barges in with an announcement about some new game that she thinks Dean will love and he must must must download it on his phone immediately. 

But Cas is in the middle of drawing Dean’s blood, and Dean just shakes his head. 

“I don’t have one of them fancy smartphones,” he says, “with all the apps and whatnot.” He nods his head to where his cell sits on the bedside table. 

Cas, of course, already saw the archaic flip phone when he when to fetch it, but Charlie, having only seen it just now, looks like she’s about to have a stroke. 

“How are you alive."

Cas is done with the blood work, and Dean is laughing as he grabs the phone and says, “While we’re on the subject, I should probably get your number or I’m sure next time I have a near death experience you’ll be knocking down my door with some more shit about me never calling."

“Ugh,” she says reaching for the phone reluctantly, as if it’s radioactive, or made of spiders. “I’ll try but I don’t know if I can type on this thing. You know 1995 tried to call you to get it’s inferior technology back, but they couldn’t because you have their only working phone."

“Hilarious, Charlie, as always."

Dean doesn’t laugh, but Cas does, as he heads for the door to continue with the rest of his rounds. 

“Hey, wait a sec, Cas,” Dean calls. “I need yours too."

 

~

 

So there comes a certain point in the process of _avoiding_  when it kind of just dissolves into nothing more than guilt. Dean has been at Mercy for six days and Cas has yet to talk to him about why he’s actually here (with the exception of the brief explanation on that first day).

With Claire, Hannah, a few others, they would talk freely, not avoid the touchy subjects as vehemently as Dean (which should be a clue right there), although Tessa still tries, every morning and evening like clockwork. She hasn’t broken him yet as he keeps insisting he isn’t broken.

Cas almost believes him.

He wants to believe him, except there are enough facts to the contrary. And the longer Dean is here the more Cas is witness to the moments between the laughter and the smiles, though still few and far between, and the glimpses he’s caught when Dean thinks no one is watching, when that smile wavers, flickers out of existence. 

Dean has gotten calls from his friends and family over the past few days, he’s made a few himself, but hasn’t said a word to any of them about where he is, or why, or how, or any of it. 

It’s late when Cas enters Dean’s room, determined. The hospital is quiet, most of the rooms have their lights off and Dean’s got a book open with a reading light that Charlie brought him. He looks tired, but not as tired as Cas thinks he should be, though maybe that’s not fair to him.

“Hey Cas.” Dean smiles and sets the book down, as Cas walks over, sits in the chair near the bed.

“Hello Dean."

They’re silent for a moment because they both know there’s something different about his moment and whatever conversation will follow.

Cas starts of easy, not sure if it’s for his own benefit or for Dean’s.

“What book are you reading?"

“ _The Sirens of Titan_."

Cas nods. “I’ve never read any Vonnegut. Not really much for sci-fi."

“First of all, that’s practically blasphemy. Second, I’d still recommend him based purely on the way he writes. His voice is genius."

“I was supposed to have read both _Cat’s Cradle and Slaughterhouse-Five_ in high school. Never did."

“Rebel phase?"

“Something like that."

Dean grins. “Hard to picture.” Then he leans over the side of the bed down to the bag that holds the rest of the books that Cas brought him, and pulls out a copy of _Slaughterhouse-Five_. “Here, you can borrow it only if you promise to ignore everything I wrote in the margins."

“Thank you.” Cas takes it, holds in gingerly, like he might break it, but mostly he’s afraid to break this nice moment they’re having with what he has to say next. 

And then Dean beats him to it. “Look, I know why you’re here."

Cas looks up from the book and holds Dean’s gaze steadily. “You don’t have to tell me.” But he wishes he will. “Just know that I’m not asking as hospital staff, I’m asking as a friend."

“I know."

Cas waits.

“I don’t want to tell you,” he says. “I don’t want to tell anyone, it’s embarrassing."

Cas waits.

“Would you believe me if I told you I regret it?"

“Yes."

“Would you believe me if I told you that it kind of was an accident."

“I… I don’t know."

Dean laughs darkly. “Of course not. It’s stupid really. I wasn’t actively trying to kill myself but I wasn't trying not to either. I knew it was a possibility. Thought I’d leave it up to fate."

“That’s quite the gamble."

“Indeed it is."

 

~

 

The gist of it is this:

A general lack of purpose.

With an alcoholic father and no mother, Dean spent his childhood taking care of his brother. But then Sam grew up, went off to school, found himself a good job and a life on the west coast.

Dean had spent the first half of his twenties taking care of his dad, making sure he didn’t cause more trouble than he could handle, but it wasn’t really any use. And then Dean spent most of rest of his twenties chasing him around the country trying to bring him home, but he could hardly find him, let alone talk to him.

During all that, he'd spent a week in Michigan, had a thing with a girl, and then he left. He’d been headed back that way two years later, gave her a call on a whim, found out she had a son, and she told him the kid was his. He stayed for a year, and then she told him that he wasn’t.

Dean ended up back in Kansas, alone, and that was fine until it wasn’t. 

 

~

 

There’s all sorts of things that Cas could say, at the end of this story, most of which Dean already knows, little of which he’d want to hear. That sometimes life just sucks for a while. That excuses are just excuses. That it will get better. That he’s not as alone as he feels.

He doesn’t say any of it because it doesn’t need to be said. All that needs to be said is, “Thank you for telling me."

 


	3. New Year's Eve

New Year’s Eve, and Mercy’s hustle and bustle is back up to snuff. Somehow, magically, all that was left of the Christmas decorations have disappeared, replaced by New Year’s, which just means an absence of red and green and a whole lot of sparkly shit that says _2016_. And someone had the audacity to throw balloons in to the break room, helium, but with no strings tied to them, creating the need to either climb on a chair to get them down, or just wait for them to deflate. So, they'll be there for a few days.

Charlie’s got on a pair of ridiculous 2016 glasses that Cas can’t believe she can actually see out of. Well, she can see out of them fine, but they’re huge, and more distracting to the rest of them, because they stick out about a foot from either side of her face (okay, he’s exaggerating) and every time she turns her head they threaten to whack whomever or whatever is nearest her. This has Garth laughing, and Meg fuming - a dangerous combination, but then Meg saves them all by abandoning her paperwork in favor of patients. 

It’s only two in the afternoon, plenty of time until actual New Year’s festivities, and no one here is even working that late, so really, they could do to save the celebrating for later and anywhere but here.

Charlie also has an assortment of noisemakers hidden in her purse, but Cas has been sworn to secrecy, because if Meg were to find out, they’d have to deal with a much worse noise - Meg.

And speaking of - 

“Clarence! Guess who’s finally talking to Tessa."

Dean, apparently.

Cas hasn’t gotten a chance to talk to him yet this morning, hasn’t seen Dean since his confession. But this is good, talking to Tessa. And Gabriel had told Cas that all of Dean's tests were coming back normal, and maybe they would finally let him go home. 

They talk all afternoon. Every time Cas passes 209 he peeks in but then has to keep going, doesn’t want to intrude and there’s not much to be done anyway. Dean and Tessa talk for hours and then Dean’s on the phone for another two - real conversations this time, not the superficial sort he’d been having all week.

This is good.

Cas finds plenty of ways to keep himself busy even though all he wants to do is barge into 209 to see how it went, if everything’s okay.

Everything is fine, of course. At first it was tense, but now every time Cas passes the room he sees Dean in there smiling, phone still pressed to his ear.

He settles at the nurses station with Charlie, who is still wearing the glasses.

“Plans for tonight?” She asks.

“None."

“As usual."

"We could go for drinks like last year. Gabe is out this time though. Kali."

“Ah, sorry Cas, wish I could, but I’ve got a date, actually."

Cas sets down that he's working on and turns to her, where she sits, calmly, her eyes on her computer screen.

“Please tell me you mean Dorothy."

Her calm breaks and she squeals. “Yes! Can you believe it? I barely can."

“Congratulations. Did the Christmas cards win her over?"

Sha laughs. “I’m sure that helped! I don’t know, I ran into her in the break room, we talked, it was going well so I took a risk and she said yes."

“Good for you."

“Yes. Good for me. Now it’s your turn.” She’s not even pretending to work anymore. 

Cas is keeping his eyes firmly on the paper in front of him because he can’t take her seriously in those glasses, and because he knows what’s coming next.

Meg comes back from her rounds, and leans over the counter between them and makes it worse. “Red, Dean’s asking for you."

“Yes. Dean. What’s Dean doing for New Year’s, Cas?"

“Oh, I don’t know, probably what he’s been doing all week.” This from Meg.

“I was asking Cas, Meg, but thanks. Gabe said he might release him today."

“Today?” Cas asks. This is the first he’s heard of it.

“Or tomorrow,” Charlie says. “Depends on what Tessa has to say."

“She’ll keep him till tomorrow,” Meg says. “Are _you_ going to make him wait till tomorrow, Charlie? He wants to talk to you. Go."

“Fine.” She gets up and glowers at Meg as she walks away and shouts, “But you think about what I said, Cas."

“You didn’t say anything,” he grumbles, unfortunately loud enough for Meg to hear. 

She laughs. “Did she really need to?"

No, she didn’t.

 

~

 

The rest of the work day passes quickly. Cas is in and out of 209 a few times, for work stuff, but they don’t get to talk much. Dean’s either on the phone or reading and doesn’t put the book down like he usually does. 

Cas worries, until the third time he enters the room, determinedly not looking at Dean while he checks his chart, until Dean clears his throat, and Cas looks up on instinct.

Dean’s looking at him over his book, smiling again, and says, “Sam says hi."

“Oh."

“And thank you."

Cas nods, and then, “Sam says thanks? Or you."

“Both.” The smile falters a bit. “Are we good?"

“Of course.” Cas sets the chart back. “And you’re welcome."

 

~

 

Cas’ shift ends at ten pm, presumably leaving plenty of time to make it to anything he might have planned for New Year’s, which of course he doesn’t.

Except, he kind of does. He’s calling it a whim but it isn’t, not really, and Charlie’s going to want to take the credit but he’d and an inkling of an idea already forming before she'd tried to meddle.

He sees her in the lobby waiting for Dorothy when he heads out of the hospital. He wishes her luck and _happy new year_ , and she just asks where the heck he’s going, but he just waves and goes.

Goes to the grocery store down the street, luckily close enough to walk to and luckily it’s not as cold as it usually is this time of year.

He buys an apple pie, a half-gallon of vanilla ice cream, and a set of paper plates and napkins that say _Happy New Year’s_ on them, and then he walks back to the hospital. He steals plastic silverware from the cafeteria, he grabs his hoodie from the break room (so he can pretend that he isn’t wearing scrubs) and then by 10:45 he's headed to 209. 

This time, Dean isn’t doing anything, just laying down and staring at the ceiling. 

“Hello, Dean."

He sit up, looks over and smiles. “Hey, Cas. They got you working this late on New Year’s? That’s brutal."

Instead of answering right away, Cas just holds up the grocery bags he’s carrying, and heads to the chair beside the bed. As he sits, he says, “My shift ended at ten."

Dean watches him carefully, still with a half-smile on his lips. “No plans?"

“I usually hang out with Charlie. This year she has a date. My brother’s busy as well, and even if he wasn’t we already spent Christmas together. That’s plenty."

“Sure, not to mention every day here at Mercy."

“Yes, that too.” Cas starts unbagging the treats. Dean’s eyes light up at the ice cream, but he’s practically drooling when he sees the pie. 

“C’mon, Cas, there’s got to be somewhere else you’d rather be than the hospital."

“I’ll admit it’s not my favorite place to be when I’m off, but location doesn’t matter as much as the people,” Cas says, handing Dean a plastic spoon. "I’d rather be here."

“Okay."

“Ice cream first,” Cas says, “before it melts. Pie later."

“Okay."

They eat right out of the container because Cas only bought plates, no bowls, and eating ice cream off a plate is no fun. Dean briefly tells Cas about his conversations with Sam, tells him he spoke to Missouri too, and - 

“Thank god I’m going home tomorrow. She can’t handle much more of Monster. Says she hardly recognizes her apartment and she doesn’t like me enough to suffer through another day."

They make it to the pie in no time, talking about everything and nothing.

Dean takes a bite, chews carefully. “Much better than that hospital crap, but could still use some work."

“I think it’s pretty good."

“Cas, please. Once I’m out of here I’m going to bake a real pie for you. There’ll be no going back."

Despite his grievances, Dean still manages to each three slices. Cas only manages two, and then around 11:30, Dean is contemplating a fourth when Sam calls and saves him from a future stomach ache.

“Sammy! Happy New Year!"

Cas starts to get up, to make himself scarce but Dean shakes his head. No need. Cas gets up to throw the plates out anyway, put the rest of the ice cream in the freezer in the break room.

He makes it back in time for the part of the conversation he’s glad not to miss, although he can only hear one side of it.

“I’m not spending New Year’s alone, thank you very much, but so what if I was … yeah I’m still at the hospital … got a friend here."

He’s looking at Cas as he speaks, smiling. 

“Cas … yes, that Cas."

“Hello, Sam,” Cas says loud enough to be heard. He hears a quiet _hey_ in response, and Dean laughs as they keep talking.

“He is nice …  yeah that too … when have I ever done anything stupid - shut up … shut up Sammy. Or I will tell Jess about that time with the  peanut butter and - "

Sam is so loud shouting _no fine whatever!_ that Cas can hear from where he’s sitting. He and Dean both laugh.

“Alright alright, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? It’s almost midnight."

And it is. Less than fifteen minutes. They're got the t.v. on mute, the ball drop in New York and the rest of nonsense they play all night, on some local channel that plays it back an hour late to account for the different timezone. Dean refuses to subject himself to their poor music selection by turning the volume up, but he likes to watch the parties.

There’s a few other celebrations happening in the hospital. Patients, doctors. They can hear everyone getting ready for the countdown, a few premature confetti poppers going off. Dean conjures up some noise makers and poppers that Charlie had dropped off for him earlier.

“Man, 2016,” Dean says. “How did that happen."

“I really do not know."

Five minutes. They show the crowd in Times Square and it looks like the most awful place to be, all those people, all that noise. The tiny hospital room with just the two of them is infinitely better.

Three minutes. 

“So It’s kind of refreshing that you’re the only one who hasn’t said anything like, _it’s going to get better, and we’re all here to help_  or _it’s a new year, fresh start and all that_ , but, uh, do you think maybe you could?"

“It’ll get better if you want it to, and I can tell that you do. It is what you make it, Dean. Don’t let fate screw you over. I speak from experience."

“I don’t know, fate’s not all that bad. Wouldn’t have met you."

One minute. The closed captioning on the t.v. says something about making sure that special someone is close, 50 seconds until midnight and a kiss. For luck? Is that what it’s for?

“You know, I never understood where that tradition came from."

“Me neither."

Cas has never really felt the need to participate, and he still doesn’t now, but he’s sitting there right beside Dean’s bed, and Dean’s hand is resting on the blanket, and it would be the easiest thing in the world for Cas to reach out and hold it. So he does.

Ten seconds.

9...

8...

“This might be my favorite New Year’s."

“Top three, maybe."

“Well, then I’m offended." 

3...

2... 

1...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame my love of hospital AUs on the show _Scrubs_. Anyone with me?


End file.
